Crossfire

by Malorie Blackman

  ‘I can’t … I can’t deal with this right now.’ Slinging my rucksack over my shoulder, I headed for the door.

  ‘Thanks for nothing, Tobey,’ Misty called after me. ‘I don’t know what was going on between you and Callie, but, whatever it was, you used me and now I’ve been caught in the crossfire.’

  Though her words made me start, I left the room without looking back. My heart was still trying to drill its way out of my chest. Control over my life was whirling like confetti in the wind.

  Callie …

  Oh God! What would Callie do when she found out?

  I remember when I was seven or eight Mum told me about split-aparts. Some Jurassic philosopher or other reckoned that each person only had half a soul, having been split apart from its other half for some reason or other that I can’t recall. This philosopher reckoned each person spent their life searching for their other half, not feeling truly whole till they’d found the person who possessed it. Some people settled for ‘close enough’, unable or unwilling to keep searching till they found their true other half.

  ‘Don’t ever settle, Tobey,’ said Mum. ‘Find someone who has the same values, the same principles, the same interests. Someone who will treat your heart right. Even if you have to wait a long time, don’t settle. Believe me, it’ll be worth it.’

  I didn’t have to settle. I didn’t have to search. When Mum told me that story, it was like cogs clicking into place in my head. Right then and there, I knew who was my split-apart. She was living next door and her name was Callie Rose. Never doubted it for a second; never said anything to anyone about it. As if! But I knew.

  And now Misty was a grenade between us.

  Misty was pregnant – and she was actually making noises about keeping it. Think. I needed to think.

  What was I going to do?

  forty-four. Callie

  * * *

  It’s been a while now since Tobey and I last spoke, but it’s not just me he’s singling out for the silent treatment. As far as I can see, Tobey’s not talking to anyone. Not even his best mates Connor and Tauren, who’d just come back to school after having his appendix removed. Tobey came to lessons, head down, talking to no one, then disappeared at break and lunch. At first I thought he was spending time with Misty, but I soon realized I’d got that one wrong. She hung around with her friends, not Tobey. Misty had obviously told Tobey her news, but as far as I could tell she hadn’t told anyone else. If she had, it would’ve been the talk of the whole school.

  What was Misty going to do? Keep it? Have an abortion? Put her child … their child, up for adoption? Why did I even care? Misty wasn’t my concern. But Tobey was.

  Where is he? What’s he doing?

  I was worried about him. There! I’d admitted it to myself.

  The lunch break had started, I was in the common room and Tobey had pulled his disappearing act again. Was he scared? Feeling alone? Well, I wasn’t about to abandon him.

  I needed him to know I was still his friend – if nothing else.

  ‘Sammi, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Tobey recently, have you?’ I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Sammi’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t buying my act for a second. ‘Last I saw he was hiding away again in practice room three, where he always goes at lunchtime.’

  I frowned. Why was Tobey in the piano practice room? He wouldn’t know middle C from the Sea of Tranquillity. I sprang up and headed off. Was he OK?

  ‘Where’re you going?’ Sammi called after me.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ I replied. And I was out the door.

  forty-five. Tobey

  * * *

  My head was splitting. I’d had a constant headache for the last few days and, no matter how many painkillers I popped, nothing was shifting it. Just one of the reasons why I wasn’t in the food hall or the sixth-form common room. Any kind of noise went through my head like a giant spike.

  So here I was in the music practice room – just a piano I couldn’t play and me. The practice room was tiny, a shoebox containing a full-size digital keyboard and two piano stools. A shelf on the adjacent wall held sheet music and a few piano practice books. This had become my bolthole during school breaks. And this would be where I stayed until lunchtime was over. I didn’t want to see anyone, speak to anyone, look at anyone.

  My life was a mess. I didn’t need to see the confirmation of that in the eyes of every person who looked at me. Everyone knew I’d slept with Misty. No one but Misty and me knew about the consequences. But, if Misty had her way, they soon would. Even if she said nothing, her abdomen would soon be talking for her. My life was already a gossip cake that everyone in the school was snacking on. When word got out about Misty’s pregnancy, my life wouldn’t be worth living. Frustrated, I slammed my fists down on the keys before me. I’d been doing that a lot over the last few days, playing how I felt.

  The door opened. I turned, ready to tell whoever it was to sod off. The words died in my mouth. Callie. She entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  ‘Tobey, can I talk to you?’

  I shrugged, not trusting myself to speak. Swinging my legs round, I turned to face her. No doubt she was going to tear into me for sleeping with Misty. Call me out for the mess I’d made. Yet Callie didn’t know the half of it. Didn’t she realize she couldn’t slap me with a single negative label that I hadn’t already applied to myself? Straightening my shoulders, I braced myself for the onslaught.

  ‘How’re you doing?’ she asked.

  Oh, so we were playing that game, were we? Callie was assuming the role of Lady Magnanimous. And me? What was my role supposed to be? Serf Grateful?

  I shrugged again. ‘I’ve been better.’

  ‘Aren’t you hungry? You’re missing lunch.’

  ‘Couldn’t eat a thing.’

  Callie nibbled on the corner of her bottom lip, a sure if surprising sign that she was nervous.

  ‘I’ve got some biscuits in my pocket. Want one?’ she asked.

  I shook my head.

  ‘I don’t mind getting you a drink if you fancy one.’

  I shook my head again.

  How many more trivialities was she going to throw at me? I ran my hand over my hair, unsure how much more of this small talk I could take.

  ‘You still taking your exams next term?’ asked Callie.

  I frowned. ‘Of course. I’m still going to uni to study law.’

  Callie and I had applied to study law at the same university. We’d spoken of sharing a flat or a house at some point, maybe after the first year. The same subject in the same university in the same town in the same world in the same lifetime. That had been the dream.

  Callie cleared her throat. ‘I just wanted you to know that … that I know about Misty being pregnant.’

  No! Mayday! Mayday …

  My heart plummeted down, down, down, out of my body towards the centre of the earth, taking the last remnants of the hope I had left with it. The moment I’d been dreading had arrived. How had she found out? Misty said …

  Misty lied.

  I should’ve known. Closing my eyes briefly, I stood up and looked straight at Callie. ‘Well?’

  She blinked in surprise. ‘Is that all you have to say to me?’

  ‘What d’you want me to say?’

  What the hell was she waiting for? Like the earth orbiting the sun, what Callie was about to do next was inevitable. I was about to get shot down – and all I could do was stand before her and wait for the bullets to fly.

  forty-six. Callie

  * * *

  Tobey had straightened up to his full height, and, though he tried to hide it, he was hurting. Badly. And, because he was hurting, so was I.

  ‘I’m here because I thought you might need a friend.’

  Tobey’s eyes narrowed. His lips twisted into a sneer. ‘And that would be you, would it?’

  ‘Yes, it would,’ I replied. Why was he being so bloody? ‘I just wanted to say that if
you need someone to talk to, or if there’s anything else you need, I’m here for you.’

  ‘That’s it? That’s all you have to say?’

  ‘What would you like me to say, Tobey?’ I asked, exasperated. ‘I’m trying here, OK? Misty is pregnant with your child and … and I’m trying to be supportive, but you’re not the only one hurting. You’ve taken what you and I had and stomped it into dust. And for what? For Misty. You and her – that just has “fuckery” written all over it. Was she worth it?’

  Silence.

  ‘No.’ Tobey’s voice was barely audible, but I heard him.

  ‘Then why did you do it, Tobey? Why did you sleep with the one person you knew would hurt me the most?’ I asked.

  Misty had been trying to get with Tobey for years. Even when he and I became an item, I could feel her breathing down my neck, just waiting for an opportunity to take my place. Once Tobey had even tried to use Misty to make me jealous. Tried and succeeded. I clenched my fists, the resentment, the bitterness I’d tried to bank down rising up like lava in an erupting volcano.

  ‘It wasn’t like that—’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ I interrupted. ‘You deliberately tried to hurt me, and you know what? You succeeded. I want to be your friend, but part of me hopes you and Misty are miserable together. I hope you’re both as miserable as you’ve made me. I hope your child dies.’

  Tobey and I stared at each other, my poisonous words echoing between us. Oh God!

  ‘I’m sorry, Tobey,’ I said, appalled. ‘I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Tobey, I—’

  ‘Don’t say any more, Callie. I think you’ve said enough. You took aim and your aim was true. You can go now.’

  It was only when I felt salt water run over my top lip and into the corner of my mouth that I realized I was crying. I dashed my hand across my cheeks, but the tears didn’t stop. I looked at Tobey, waiting for him to crow at my tears, but, to my shock, he too had tears shimmering in his eyes. Unlike me, however, he wasn’t even trying to hide them.

  We stood less than a metre apart. All I wanted at that moment was for Tobey to open his arms and hold me. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let him go. The two of us against the world.

  Neither of us moved.

  ‘Just go, Callie,’ Tobey sighed, turning to sit down on the piano stool, his back to me. ‘There’s nothing left for us to talk about.’

  Our moment had come – and gone. Regret tore at my flesh. I turned to leave.

  ‘Callie, wait.’

  My hand froze on the door handle. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder at Tobey.

  ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’

  I replied, ‘For what it’s worth, so am I.’

  Sorry. One of the most inadequate words on the planet. A small word that stood between us like a giant sentinel from hell. If Misty had her baby, Tobey would be a father whether he decided to hook up with her or not. If she wanted an abortion, Tobey will still have slept with her as a way of hurting me. That left us precisely nowhere.

  I left the room, quietly closing the door behind me.

  forty-seven. Tobey

  * * *

  When Callie left the room, I buried my head in my hands. I knew what she was thinking. That we were irrevocably broken. If she gave me half a chance, I’d spend the rest of my life trying to put us back together. I knew I could, given time. She just needed to give me a second chance.

  But that was never going to happen.

  How could it, with Misty in our way? If she insisted on keeping her child, then, with each day that passed, Callie would see my mistake getting bigger and bigger. How would I ever persuade Callie to trust me again?

  The hatred I felt for Misty in that moment scared me. Actually scared me. Even though on some level I knew that I shared responsibility, it didn’t make any difference. If she had been standing in front of me at that precise moment …

  This was what I got for caring. Caring about people made you soft and stupid. Caring made you weak. I closed my eyes, giving in to the coldness creeping over me. Rejoicing, revelling in it. My heart was freezing, like water turning to ice. I straightened up and took a deep breath. A dark quiet descended upon me, calming my mind.

  It was time to change and rearrange my life. No more soft and stupid for me. No more weakness.

  It didn’t work.

  It didn’t pay.

  NOW

  * * *

  Daily Shouter Online

  Home. News. Politics. Celebs. Entertainment. Sport. Tech. Health. Science. Money. More.

  Journey from loving son and dutiful husband to mastermind behind the Leopold Day Centre outrage

  Marcus Dupont, 34, has been remanded in custody for the deaths of nine Noughts at the Leopold Day Centre yesterday. Described by those who knew him as a loving son and dutiful husband, he published his three-page manifesto on his social-media channels before leaving home with two automatic handguns, intent on causing misery and destruction.

  Dupont, a member of the TVA (Traditional Values Alliance), stated in his rambling, three-page manifesto document that he was ‘working for the good of Crosses everywhere. Noughts breed like flies and within a generation if we’re not vigalent [sic] we Crosses will be outnumbered and overrun. We Crosses need to protect our own and send a message to Noughts everywhere that they are not wanted and should go back to whatever Arctic circle godforsaken country they came from.’

  Marcus attended Ocampo High School, where he was described by a teacher as a straight-A student. ‘I can’t understand how Marcus could get involved in something like this. He was always popular with both teachers and other students. I hope he gets the mental-health care he so obviously needs.’

  forty-eight. Libby

  * * *

  ‘Your dad is Tobias Durbridge?’ Troy says, stunned.

  ‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘The one and only.’

  ‘But your surname is Jackman.’ Troy states the blooming obvious.

  ‘Mum and Dad weren’t married when they had me and, as Dad wasn’t present when my birth was registered, I couldn’t officially take his name. I looked it up.’

  ‘Your mum is Misty Jackman.’ Troy takes his time over the words, blinking like a giant lightbulb had just switched on over his head. ‘That explains so much. I didn’t put the name and the person together until now. I just knew your mum as Miss Jackman.’

  ‘Well, now you know.’ What difference does knowing my mum’s full name make?

  ‘My sister knows your dad,’ says Troy. ‘They went to school together.’

  I frown. I didn’t know that.

  ‘In fact, your dad and Callie, my sister, were an item before he hooked up with your mum.’

  I didn’t know that either. I digest Troy’s news in silence.

  ‘What else do you know about your dad and my sister?’ he asks.

  ‘Not much,’ I admit. It’s galling to find that Troy probably knows as much, if not more, about my dad than I do, courtesy of his family.

  ‘Your mum is a card-carrying Cross hater. Is your dad one too?’ asks Troy.

  ‘No! Of course not,’ I state with indignation. ‘He’s not like that.’

  I can’t know that, not for sure, but, from what I’ve seen and read about my dad on the news, I’m sure he doesn’t think that way. Besides, if he and Troy’s sister once dated, doesn’t that prove it?

  ‘But you and your mum are,’ Troy declares. The way he looks me up and down makes me bristle.

  ‘I am not. My beliefs are my own. I’m not my mum.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ The thought burns straight through me.

  ‘Sounds to me like your mum has spent her whole life jealous of my sister and she can’t get past that,’ Troy says slowly, his voice overflowing with disdain. ‘And you’re too lazy to do your own thinking so you let your mum do your thinking for you.’

  Troy’s words are a slap
across my face. And the way he looks at me. Like I’m nothing, worse than nothing.

  ‘You’re a fraud, Libby,’ says Troy. ‘You talk a good game about how you make your own decisions and run your own life, but you lie like a rug! You’re so desperate for your mum’s love that you’ve let her turn you into an exact copy of her.’

  ‘Fuck you, Troy.’ He has no idea what’s happened these last few weeks.

  ‘No, fuck you first, Libby. My mum told me all about it, about how Misty went after Tobey even though she knew your dad and my sister Callie were meant for each other. How Misty got pregnant and broke my sister’s heart. And, after all that, your dad still wanted to be with Callie. Not your mum but my sister. That’s why Misty can’t stand my sister or any Crosses – because she knows your dad could never love her the way he loved my sister. I remember what you told me in Year Seven about some of your mum’s messed-up shenanigans. You even look like your dad – another reason for your mum to resent you with her screwed-up logic. Are you really so stupid you can’t see the blindingly obvious?’

  The slaps just keep coming, each sentence a backhander, full force, with sharpened knuckles.

  ‘I’m not my mum,’ I insist again. Was that a little less conviction in my voice?

  ‘Your comment about us Crosses only looking out for our own? Is that really what you think or is that one of your mum’s planted ideas?’ asks Troy. ‘And what you said about how us Crosses can’t be trusted – your view or your mum’s? Enquiring minds would love to know.’

  He is playing my own words back to me. Words I’d said in the sixth-form common room to get more votes. But I just copied some of the antics the proper political parties had got up to during the last general election. I’d figured that maybe a third of those eligible to vote wouldn’t bother because it’s a school election – who cares? And a third would vote for Zane and Meshella because, well, they were Crosses, but the votes would be split between the two of them, meaning neither would win. OK, so Zane is biracial but he’s still darker then me. And maybe, just maybe, I could mop up the other third and a little bit more by playing the separate-but-equal card. That’s what the government of Liberal Traditionalists had done at the previous election years ago, allowing them to bring in the confirmed residency bill. The bill may have brought them a ton of bad publicity, but it also brought them a shitload of votes. The bad publicity didn’t stop them booting out of the country Noughts who were elderly and disabled, Nought criminals, Noughts too ill to work and all those Noughts who didn’t have the proper paperwork to prove they weren’t illegal immigrants. Never mind that most of the Noughts kicked out of the country had been born here or had come to Albion when they were infants. Never mind that they had worked and paid taxes and fought for their country. That was no longer good enough. Noughts were still getting booted back to the nearest Fenno-Skandian country. Mum says that’s why we Noughts will never be accepted as a true part of Zafrikan society. Not when any ruling government can pass arbitrary laws to kick us out whenever they like. Mum says that’s why we shouldn’t even try to belong, but should set up our own state and should only care about our own first, last and always.